


One Mistake

by orphan_account



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-11
Updated: 2003-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some mistakes are harder to backtrack from than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Mistake

I should have said no. Right at the beginning, I should just have said no. You would have been hurt, I might have had to sleep on the floor, but it would all have been so much simpler. Not like this mess.

It was Saturday night, during the last week of principal photography; the last Saturday night all of us single guys of the Fellowship would be together. We were in your trailer, you and me and Billy and Dominic and Orlando, and we were slamming our way through a couple of bottles of Tequila Orli'd brought round. My God, that was strong stuff. You were all laughing about how I was putting it away, when back home I'd be under the age limit. I didn't care. I'd never tasted anything like it, and it was damned good. I got so drunk.

One by one Billy and Dominic and Orlando slunk off to their own trailers to sleep, but I was too far gone to move. You were looking at me from under your eyelids, a weird look in your eyes. I was so naive, I couldn't even work out what it was. Or was I just too drunk? Anyway, I found out later, didn't I. Oh boy, did I.

You switched the tape to JJ Cale, and started rolling up a joint. We shared it in comfortable silence, and I let the sweet and dirty strains of 'Cocaine' get under my skin. When the tape finally finished, you didn't get up to change it. You just looked at me again, with that same look.

"You look way too gone to make it back to your trailer, Lij. You wanna sleep here? Plenty space in the bed."

It took me a while to get my mouth to move. "Yeah, man. Thanks. Which way's your bathroom?" You helped me up and faced me in the right direction, and I weaved my way over there. I switched on the light and shut the door behind me. The brightness made my head spin. 'Oh shit.' Next thing I knew I was on my hands and knees, throwing up. Thankfully, into the toilet bowl. I made it up to standing again, and pissed like a carthorse on top of the vomit. I saw some aftershave on a shelf over the sink and poured a little down after, to mask the smell, and flushed. 'Man, I hope Vig didn't hear that.'

I looked at myself in the mirror over the sink. My face looked too big and my eyes blurry and wide. I splashed my face with cold water, and used your kit to brush my teeth. No way was I sleeping with the taste of stomach acid and half-digested Tequila in my mouth all night. I emerged feeling a little more alert, but not much. You were coming back into the trailer from outside.

"I stepped outside for a breath of air."

'He didn't hear me throwing up. Thank fuck,' was all I could think.

You asked if I was ready for bed. Not "Are you ready to sleep?" but "Are you ready for bed?". I didn't notice that detail till afterward. I nodded, and you smiled and stretched your arm out, indicating the bed, before going to the bathroom. I stripped my T-shirt and jeans straight off and got in. I was half asleep when you came back in and turned off the light. I could hear you taking off your clothes, feel you getting in beside me, lying down on your front. I remember thinking, 'Man, what is up with Viggo?' I could feel your heartbeat thumping through the mattress. 'Jesus, is he gonna have a heart attack?' But you were lying still. Perfectly still. So I just lay there too, drifting.

Then you turned your face to me, and I could feel your breath, heavy and ragged on the back of my neck. Your fingertips, touching my butt through my boxers, slowly moving down to my thigh, back up over my hip. I ignored you. 'Man, this is /not/ happening.' But your hand kept moving, down to my inner thigh, up again. When you started stroking my balls, I couldn't ignore it any more, even if I was still too drunk to move.

I giggled, nervously. "Viggo, what the fuck are you doing?" I slurred at the wall, not turning my head. You didn't stop stroking. You just said, "I'd have thought that was obvious, Lij." I could hear the half smile in your voice. I should have just told you to stop. I still don't really know why I didn't. I don't think I was thinking too clearly. Maybe I thought it'd be simpler and take less energy to just let you carry on. It wasn't unpleasant, what you were doing. And it was dark, so I couldn't see your face, had nothing to remind me that I *really* didn't fancy you. And the Tequila and the dope were still rushing round my body, switching on all my nerves, putting shivers up and down my thighs and my belly and my spine and making my cock throb with every stroke. I vaguely remember thinking, 'Well, it'll be an experience. And tomorrow we can pretend it never happened.'

Except things didn't go that way.

I was woken up by you kissing my eyelids. "Wake up, sleepy head." Your voice sounded so bright, so happy. 'Oh, shit,' I thought. Not only did you appear to have turned into a romantic sap overnight, I also had the hangover from hell. "Glass of water?" I croaked. "Coffee?"

"Coming right up, sweetheart!" Your voice positively sang. 'Oh, shit,' I thought again, 'how am I gonna get out of this?' You came back with the water and coffee, sat on the edge of the bed, beaming at me, while I drank them. "I think I'll just go take a shower," I said.

"Great idea," you replied, and followed me into the bathroom. 'Oh God, no,' I thought, when I realised you were going to get in the shower with me. But I could hardly tell you not to. It was your fucking shower in your fucking trailer for fuck's sake. I tried to avoid your kisses, while we were showering, but there were so many of them. I felt slightly sick. Now I could see you in the light of day, I remembered how much I really didn't fancy you. Not in the slightest. And your tongue was halfway down my throat. Now was not the time to be polite, but I had a lifetime's habit to break, and I just didn't have the strength to do it. Didn't have the strength to say, "No." Not then, naked, with you pressed against me in that tight space.

I got out the shower before you could take things any further than kissing. I wrapped the biggest towel I could see round me, covering as much of my body as possible, went back into the room and got dressed as quickly as I could, still damp. Anything so I wouldn't be naked when you came in. At least that part went according to plan; you walked back in as I was putting on my sneakers.

I looked up at you, took a deep breath. "Look, Viggo, I don't usually do one night stands, but..."

I was going to say, "but I really don't want to take things any further with you. Sorry, mate." But before I could get all that out you said, "Me neither, Lij, me neither," and rushed over and kissed me again before I could protest. At least you didn't try to get your tongue past my lips that time. I gave up at that point. "I'd better get going," I said, and got out of there, before you could give me a goodbye kiss. You called out after me. "See you later!"

'Yeah, right,' I thought. 'Not if I can help it.'

Thankfully, you were too discrete to try anything when there were other people around, so I made sure I was always around other people for the rest of the week. It was so simple. And then, when I got home, I'd never have to see you again. Not in a situation you could take advantage of, anyhow.

Except, when I got home, things were not good. My dad, my fucking father, that fucking asshole, started calling up. He'd worked out that the films were gonna be big, really big, and decided he wanted to get in touch with his darling son again. His soon-to-be-rich-and-famous darling son. Calling me, I could have coped with. All I had to do was screen my calls with the answering machine. But he didn't just call me. He started calling mom. How in hell he got her number I do not know, but he did. When I wouldn't answer, he'd call her. And even over the answer tape, he brought her to tears. Every fucking time. That guy is such a jerk. So I called him and told him never to ring either of us again, and changed both numbers.

He never got through again, but home didn't feel happy anymore, didn't feel safe anymore. Mom recovered quickly, bless her, but I didn't get over it so fast. I should have stayed put and made the space mine again, but I thought I needed to get away for a while. So I did one of the worst things I've ever done in my life. I got out your number and I gave you a call.

You were so pathetically happy to hear from me. "Yeah, sure. Oh that's bad. Come right over! I'll cook you dinner." Dinner was really good. And your technique as a lover couldn't be faulted. I even enjoyed the sex, when I closed my eyes. After a few weeks, I even convinced myself that I loved you, almost as much as you loved me. But in the back of my mind, I knew I was just as much of a jerk as my dad.


End file.
